


Guidance session

by DrawingistMusashi



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Non-Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Oral Sex, Plate Playing, Post sex cuddling, Soft Sub/Dom play, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrawingistMusashi/pseuds/DrawingistMusashi
Summary: Comet Tail is the new addition to the Lost Light Crew, fresh from imprisonment with the other members of the Circle of Light on Luna1.  They have something of an arrangement with Megatron, who needs some "guidance" after a long day.





	Guidance session

**Author's Note:**

> YO: this is sticky with OC/ Megatron and valves and plate playing and shit. a little bit of Sub/Dom play but not hardcore or anything. It’s soft, like my stomach. More info about plate playing :: http://tmblr.co/Z2GuAu1g3WRWW : The intro to Plate Playing and Megatron and Comet Tail’s first time together roughly outlined :: http://tmblr.co/Z2GuAu1fz_AUh :: it is not necessary to read either of these links but it’s educational nonetheless.   
> *Also please imagine that Comet Tail has the voice rather like David Bowie’s speaking voice. :D

 

It was frustrating, borderline  _ agonizing _ how ludicrous the situation was. Although Comet Tail, being tall and mysterious and having a very skilled set of hands, had never lacked berth partners, something about the war having recently ended and the specific social system on the Lost Light, made eir current schedule nearly unmanageable. As always, Comtail loved to be productive , be it on actual work or hobbies. Now, seemingly every time they turned, another mech was falling into their lap, begging for attention. 

 

Perhaps it was simply a novelty factor. Back on Theophany, there were many knights and fellows who sported a regal air, strong posture and elegant helms.  On the ship however, even if stuck to the shadows, glad again to have decided against getting extra biolights, someone inevitably noticed eir strong frame stalking the corridors. 

 

They could not complain, however, about the newest tryst they’d found themselves in. Or the second newest, being a somewhat smaller ‘meeting of minds’ between Ratchet and Perceptor. Well, more accurately, Perceptor was usually in the middle. Trying things with the two of them was always rewarding, even if on occasions such as this one, tiring. Comtail stalked the halls with green optics half closed, searching for fuel. Though all attempts to do so unnoticed were ultimately in  vain. 

 

“Ah, there you are. Do you have a moment?” A deep and unmistakably ragged voice called out from around the corner.  Turning on heel, the jet let out a deep vent of warm air in a sigh, arching one brow thoughtfully. They had tried, at least. No one could contest that.

 

“Is something the matter?” e asked, politely as possible. Since the mech who had stopped them was none other than the infamous Co Captain of the ship, also known as their newest berth partner. 

 

“Not...precisely, but if you...don’t mind, I would like your company tonight.” Megatron seemed uncharacteristically unsure, or perhaps sheepish about the request. Although one could hardly blame someone for being unsure when as strange of events that the ship experienced happened so frequently.

 

With a thoughtful nod, Comtail lurched forward, getting as close to the silver helm as they dared, “I’m so sorry you can’t join me, but I need to refuel. Be ready in ten minutes.” Sweeping an invisible speck of dust from the side of the former warlord’s helm, the jet stalked off again, plating heating up again despite their frame’s tired state.  A little anticipation was rarely a bad thing, but it would be rude to keep the Co Captain waiting for  _ too long.  _

 

What had brought these two together, a former poet who led (one of the) armies that decimated the homeworld, body of Primus, and a pious (if secretive) follower of the Circle of Light, was sheer curiosity. Namely, _ how  _ **_did_ ** _ a former poet turn into a ruthless destroyer of worlds _ ? It progressed quickly from inquiry to casual banter, and from there, to not too casual touching. The pair ended their first meeting with an agreement that Megatron would allow Comet Tail to help ‘reintegrate’ the mech into post-war life. Part of that, was allowing a certain measure of trust and mutual sharing of private information and extremely private displays. 

 

It had been several days, at least, since Comtail had the chance to have one of these sessions with Megatron, as busy as the other mechs on the ship had kept the jet. Returning swiftly from refueling, they arrived with a ping at the door to the Co Captain’s suite.  The door opened, unlocking just long enough for large wings to slip inside. 

 

“Thank you for being prompt, I don’t like to be stood up.” There was the slightest undercurrent of self effacing humor in that statement. Catching it, Comtail retorted, “Ah, the only stood up you’ll be with me, is stood up against the wall as I frag you.” 

Silence held the room for a moment, until both of  were unable to hide the slight upturned corner of their mouths and let out a short laugh. 

 

Leading, the purple jet took a seat on the berth, just barely brushing their legs against Megatron’s. “So, have you gotten anything done while I’ve been gone? Or at least done any reading?” Sharp fingers betrayed the innocent line of questions, skirting the tank’s hip plating. Green optics focused intently, patiently, once again leaving the Co Captain with the unmistakable feeling of being throughly groped without his partner actually laying a hand on him. A sensation he’d come to associate with Comet Tail, and had little defense against. Choosing instead, to allow the heat to roil through his cables and sensors untethered, while words struggled to form a sentence. 

 

“I’m making progress with Ultra Magnus, at least. He’s one of the few sane ones here and excellent at what he does, so it seems best to at least keep on his good side…” Although admittedly, they were never going to agree on everything, at least the former duly appointed enforcer could be made to see reason. Unlike their captain, who was sulking like a petulant child for most of the time he’d been on the ship. (Despite Comet Tail also doing their best to whip him into shape.) 

 

“Excellent, Magnus has a good head on his shoulders, but the tension can get to him as well, bear that in mind ” Comtail had also been trying to retrain Magnus, using Rodimus both in submissive and dominant positions to ease each party's difficulties, but mechs did not change overnight, even over very very productive nights. 

 

Megatron bowed his head, unable to disagree or add to the statement without being seen as difficult. He was difficult, after all, but no need to draw attention to it. One of the jet’s hands slowly slipped over the back of his, seeking permission for a few unspoken words. The tank revealed his palm, and Comtail guided their fingers between the joints, stimulating the nerve circuits. In the language of hands, chirolinguistics, they signed, ‘relax, cool your systems, you are safe.’ 

 

The broader mech realized then, that his other hand had been clenched tightly. Something normal for him, between fighting a war and dealing with the new situations and absurdities that came after it. With a worry releasing chuckle, the silver mech followed the advice, allowing his stiff joints to relax and plates to open to take in cooler air for a spell. 

 

“There, that’s a bit more like it. You still aren’t very good at it, but it is an improvement.”  

Scoffing, Megatron shot back, “Oh, and perhaps I should just smoke till I forget myself instead?” 

Within a moment, he realized what a poor idea it was to bring that up. 

 

“For you, it would be a very temporary relief. However, I would consider melting your circuits with multiple overloads to be an act of mercy, if you regress again.” 

 

Truth be told, this was exactly why he needed the company. After leading the merry band of third-string Autobots and neutrals through any number of shenanigans, all he had left was an empty room, and loud thoughts. A dangerous thing to be burdened with. Once, long ago, the council had tried to quiet the storm of his thoughts, and it was not an experience the former miner wanted to live through again. 

 

One of the jet’s hands slid up from arms, to shoulders, to trace the small lines of fuel leading to Megatron’s neck. The pointed edges bringing with them,  painful reminders. He recoiled, only to settle back down as the Crystal City mech’s normally tight EM field flared warmly over his side. “I am not here just to distract you,  _ sir _ , but if you want me to stop, say the word.” 

 

“No, no, it’s...just that it reminds me of something, but don’t stop…” The hand covering Comet Tail’s arm seemed to at odds with the request, till he slid it up to press against. Letting his helm rest with the support. Difficult as it was to trust, for his body and his mind, someone else, the millennia of surviving on only the barest emotional and physical support weighed heavy on his tired spark. 

  
  


“You poor dear,” there was no pity in Comet Tail’s dulcet voice, just a great deal of empathy. “Lay down for me.” 

 

The former warlord’s body was terrible at taking orders. Still, his stiff back gradually relaxed, and he laid down properly, trying to facilitate the much needed session. The particular arrangement of flight kibble made it difficult for the jet to settle down comfortably, sitting up with legs only partially folded beside Megatron. Once ready, calm optics did a once over on the silver and grey frame, deciding the order of attack. It took conscious effort for the Co Captain to keep his plates from tensing tight to his frame again. Feeling strangely vulnerable against that gaze. The other mech could easily completely immobilize him, even at his best, given the right circumstances. That was why it was so important, after all, to agree to this kind of hands on approach. 

 

The Crystal City mech removed from their subspace, a canister of maliprap, a substance meant for capping sharp points and creating friction. Each finger delicately dipped to blunt the edges, Comet Tail blew on them softly to help it dry, clearly proud of how neatly the job had been done. For some reason, the pleased look on their face tugged a smile out of the old warlord, only for the glimmer of gold paint under deep green optics to force his mouth into an awed gape.

 

“Are you ready?” Comtail purred, a faint smile on their lips. Nodding, Megatron managed to sound secure, “Very ready.” The kind of devious look that the normally stoic jet had right now reminded him in the best possible way, of Starscream. Cunning, and ready to do whatever it took to get what they wanted, tinted with a gleam of mischief. 

 

“Excellent, you may open your panels whenever you are ready.”  The lack of conditions was immediately suspicious, and he soon realized why. With very clever fingers now adequately wrapped, the first pass down his chest produced a high pitched hum of shaking metal.  Usually, Megatron gave up a measure of control, to get comfortable not being the one giving the orders for once, in any situation. Now, his partner didn’t need to command him to open his modesty panel, another well placed touch and it would be open anyway. Body betraying his long ingrained stubborn streak without his mind getting in the way.  _ Terribly clever.  _

 

Comtail couldn’t be bothered to hide the smirk on their face. Kneeling down between Megatron’s spread legs required rearranging of some kibble, but soon the mech’s heavy treaded legs were heaved over their shoulders, tingling as the jet vibrated the heavily armored thighs with careful caresess. To his shame, the dark grey panel flew back as fingers played against the inside of his thighs. 

 

“Ah, see this is the start of a good look for you.” Kissing the naked spot between the tank’s heavily armored knees, the former warlord trembled against the damnably gentle touches and words. “Just so long as you share this with me only, for the time being...can’t have any one of those amateurs undoing all our hard work, just yet.”  With the word ‘hard’, they palmed the bottom of the rounded grey pelvic plates. Causing him to writhe in a bid for one of those fingers to give relief to his heated array. 

 

He would have asked if the jet was done teasing yet, if he wanted to get laughed at, and as anxious as foreplay used to make him, it was worlds better when his partner could be trusted to make it worthwhile. Megatron bit lightly at his lower lip, as his thighs vibrated with a clear tone against the devious fingers. Each micro movement of his plates traveled through the sensory net underneath, tingling and revving up a charge from his green spark. 

 

“My my, what a beautiful sound, let’s see if you have anything else, hm?” Increasing the pressure, Megatron gasped sorrowfully as the hand putting pressure against his valve left, trailing up groin to his waist, where once again he was betrayed by the pleasure of vibrations traveling through his torso. The sound started quietly enough, just a small ring, before building as the shaking increased, nearly causing him to double over. “Relax yourself, if you need me to go slower, say so.” 

 

“Right, please, a bit less pressure.” Already, his frame was quivering with need as sensitized as the attacks made his body. “As you wish.” Comtail did indeed, put less pressure on the gliding edges of fingertips. The lack of umph was replaced by them diving down, teasing the old warlord’s valve with nose tip, golden chin and glossa. His frame shot ramrod straight for a moment as the sharp bridge of the purple mech’s nose pushed against his nearly-forgotten node clusters. Just as soon as it was there, the pressure was gone again, replaced with lazy lathing licks and suckles. The Co Captain grunted harshly as he fought to regain control of himself. 

 

With a swift, relatively painless swat to the thigh, he eased up. “None of that, you are here to  _ relax, and give up the reigns. _ I swear I’ve never seen someone so pent up while being eaten out.” 

 

He nodded mutely, array feeling a new surge of heat at the tone of Comet Tail’s voice, and the sight of faint stains from his lubricant on the handsome, pharaonic face. 

 

The lights of the grey and red valve pulsed slowly, dying down after they lost contact with warm mouth and hands. Tisking, the wrapped digits pinched the outermost bundle of nodes, causing the tank to strain upwards again, leaking more silvery fluid onto the helping hands. “Already causing   a mess, at least give me a chance to catch it.” They hefted large treaded legs back up and over their shoulders, lifting Megatron’s hips right off the berth while burying two fingers and a tongue inside of his throbbing entrance. The former warlord’s vents could hardly keep up with the heat rolling through him, made no better by even more playing of his waist plates. The ringing of metal building up as he let out a keen. 

 

Slurping lewdly,“~ Ah, that’s more like it.” Comtail licked their upper lip clean, skillfully teasing the inside of the valve with their chin as they sucked away on the tight ring of calipers and nodes. It was incredibly indecent and worse still, attractive. Gasping for cool air, he pawed softly at the horns and fins of the purple and gold helm. A cue for the jet to remove the huge legs from over their shoulders and meet face to face. 

 

Clearly aroused but amused, they puckered thin lips thoughtfully, “How do you want it tonight? I’m not exactly at full strength at the moment, but I could certainly satisfy you with my spike.” Said interface array was already returning to life as the thick mech beneath squirmed ever so delightfully. Canting their helm to the side, Comtail added, “Or I could ride you, do you think you could refrain from controlling the pace if we did that?” 

 

With a rumbling mumble, the old warlord nodded, “Yes, I can.” Or he liked to think so, at least. One of the conditions of their sessions was that  there were to be no physical restraints on him. Actual cuffs and locks did not temper the mind of old habits, it merely made them more difficult to act out. A small kiss to his lower lip removed the fog of doubt from his mind, startling the former Decepticon out of his daze. 

 

“Well then, I hope you don’t mind that I don’t drag this out for as long as possible...I have had quite a day already.” Flashing the barest hint of sharpened teeth, long thin fingers dragged down the silver chest as their hips ground against the modesty panel for his spike. Clearly, the Crystal city mech had a very different idea of dragging things out than he did. 

 

Already, his spike was pressing against it’s cover, and beginning to grow painful with the pressure. The moment that purple and gold hips passed far enough, it sprang forward, dragging woefully against dry plates. With a chuckle, the jet removed their modesty panel, revealing the multi node decorated set of valves. One for larger partners, and another for smaller. The golden lights contrasted nicely against the grey and black protomesh, as well as the grey and red lights on the stiffening spike beneath it. So far there was a faint dribble of lubricants, but not enough. Licking their own palm, Comet Tail slicked the surface of the swollen spike, squeezing the cable with enough pressure to get the heavy hips off the berth. 

 

“By the pits-” Megatron’s swearing was cut short as both valves rocked across his spike, teasing with their warmth and a trickle of charge. Millennia of instinct cried out to thrust into the invitation, claiming it in one go, but that was not for him to decide. The massive engines that moved him rumbled lowly, contrasted by the clear and beautiful ringing of his shoulders against the talented hands. All of it a distraction, while the jet dove three fingers into the officer’s soaked valve, curling against it, before dragging out the excess fluids to wet his cord even more. 

 

“Hope you don’t mind if I borrow some of this, it’s convenient.” 

 

It was also fairly convenient for driving him mad with lust. He was allowed to ask to stop, or slow down, but not to speed up. Despite his greatest wishes for release. Comet Tail was playing him like a cyber harp. Almost literally, as their hands passed from shoulders to  play delicately against neck cables. Lingering only for a moment, and even still, the skill of the touch was enough to nearly ripple the energon in his lines. Head tossing back as far as his back would allow as his hips tilted up desperately, looking for friction. 

 

“Look at you, all heated and silly, marvelous. Don’t worry, you will be rewarded for your good behavior.” Affectionately patting his helm, it did feel the slightest bit condescending, though such a slight was difficult to concentrate on as the larger valve slowly dipped over his needy cord. 

 

The jet licked their lips, brow furrowed in concentration as the head of the thick spike passed over the first ring of calipers. Their valves had been specially designed to provide resistance without effort, just barely making way for arrays of any size at first contact. It  bordered on painful how snugly the cap fit inside, only to be raised just out of reach a moment later. A test of his will, it seemed, would he keep his hips from chasing the sweet array? For now, yes, and the correct behavior was richly rewarded as promised, with half of the valve enveloping his spike in one measured drop. 

 

Comet Tail didn’t have to clench, it was done for them, though there was a satisfied sigh as their hips came up again, trickling with charge against each ribbed section of spike. “Excellent, you are getting better at waiting, aren’t you?” Megatron’s mouth hung open to reply, but the only sounds that came out was a fevered gasp as the maddenly tight hold took him again. Drawing forth small spurts of transfluid that ran through his trembling spike and into the silky embrace.

 

Every moment urged his processors to grab hold of the skirted hip plates and force them downwards, to stuff the narrow entry full and bring an end to the charge claiming his frame. The point was to ignore that, and to allow himself to take a literal hands off approach. Still, he couldn’t help but admire his partner at the moment, and grasped their thighs without trying to force them down. 

 

The signal came through loud and clear, purring, Comtail finally fully hilted themselves against the intruding cord, wings dramatically flaring out as the closely held nodes lit up with charge. In the relative darkness of the room, their golden crest and optic paint just barely glimmered, but it was enough to make them look like a hedonistic angel on Megatron’s spike. 

 

With movement finally happening, he hoped dearly that his partner would be an angel of mercy and allow them both to overload soon, with no such luck. After settling into a pace, which kept changing and keeping both of them from sweet release, the jet was able to free their hands again, shaking the plating of shoulders and chest. It rippled shockwaves of pleasure right down to his spark casing as charge built up _ maddenly  _ slowly. 

 

It seemed like ages while the Crystal city mech rode, grinding down their hips every so often to ramp up the pressure on their outer nodes, keeping Megatron unable to stay perfectly still with the rich music being made on his plating. If Optimus Prime had ever thought to torture him like this, the war might very well have ended eons ago. There was no room for pride between the mech’s arrays, only near  _ constant  _ waves of pleasure. It wasn’t often that he thanked Primus for anything, after what he’d lived through, though right now there might have been a small thanks for the fact that no one else could hear his heated cries and the chiming of his armor against the backdrop of wet thrusting. 

 

With unusual tenderness,between gasping for breath and the sounds of their interfacing, he could not help but look on his partner and softly utter, “Bless you.”  

 

For whatever reason, one known only to Comet Tail, apparently, it was a sign. Pulling both of the former warlord’s hands to their waist, encouraging touches, the jet folded forward and doubled their efforts against the spike, biting at the corners of Megatron’s chest as they bounced forcefully. His helm lobbed back against his will as the charge that buzzed over his frame suddenly went up several notches. Grasping desperately against the back of Comtail’s waist and wing joints. 

 

Despite the endless void of who knew what, inside of his frame, and the flimsy grasp his spark had on the ‘nonsense body’ there was nothing to make him feel quite as connected with it as a fierce overload coursing through every cable and joint in his body. The green spark in his chest flared under the heavy plating while his optics went bright as the charge raced through his circuits to release. Comet Tail’s thrusting refused to cease, and they rode out their own white-hot overload still pounding against the superior officer with gusto. Transfluid from the trembling grey and red spike forced from their valve with each rut. A sight the Co Captain could only wish he had  a better view of right now. 

 

Finally ceasing milking his spike with the devilishly tight array, Comtail vented out the warm air from their frame in a huge, satisfied sigh. It caused a heat shimmer that looked nearly magical. “So, how do you feel after letting someone else set the pace while you spiked?” 

 

Dizzy from the sensitized….well, everything, after overload, he quirked a brow up thoughtfully. “If it was always like that, I...I don’t know. That was fantastic, in any case. Even with the lack of control. Maybe even because of it.” 

 

The first true grin of the evening showed off the jet’s sharpened fangs, that was the right answer, apparently, and thus they mercifully removed his spike from their valve without any extra torment. “Well done, my friend, you make for a fine student.” 

Subspacing a cleansing wipe or two, they swabbed up the dribbling mess from their array and Megatron’s, humming softly as the room gradually cooled. 

 

The Co Captain was barely able to muster propping himself up on an elbow, and was taken by surprise at a sudden chaste kiss on the lips. Blinking slowly, he was treated to a seldom seen kind smile. Aftercare still seemed odd, even if it had been the norm when he was much younger, in the mines. Everyone looked after each other. It had been ages though, since the Decepticons had that kind of comradery. 

 

“How are your joints? Is anything stiff or difficult to move?” Flicking their wings as the plates settled back gently to fold into place, their hands simply wouldn’t stop moving from cleaning and preening his frame for a single moment. 

 

Taking hold of one of the hands, he grasped it firmly, just to keep it still. “Nothing is stiff, not really, although it is hard to move my shoulders after that plate playing...aside from that, I’m fine.” Casually, he moved Comtail’s hand to around his neck, wordlessly hoping for a bit more warmth. The invitation was graciously accepted, although the former warlord did find it difficult to stay upright with the added weight of a hug against his chest. It was so nice though, and not something he could do any time, deciding firmly to enjoy it while it lasted. 

At some point, he would either find the Knights of Cybertron or die trying, and the only difference would be the legacy he left behind. No one could say for sure though, how long it would be till then. That’s why he was trying to learn, to relearn, how to be a mech again. Not just a leader, or a symbol. 

 

Gradually, Comet Tail loosened the hug, but still fussed. “Don’t put too much pressure on your shoulders for a while then, until the tingling wears off. Have you been properly checked up in the last month? We still don’t know the long term effects of Fools Energon on the body.” 

 

“As I said, I’m fine, I’m not a new spark, you know.” There was however, the slightest disgruntled pout that made his partner hold back a chuckle. Punishment came in the form of multiple brief kisses, which he at first recoiled from, until the smile couldn’t be hidden under a grumpy exterior any longer. 

 

“Auugh, WHY? Ha, why do you do that?” He couldn’t help but cackle even as he asked. Retorting quickly, in a faux ominous tone, “Because I know you think it’s childish and embarrassing~ I don’t kiss anyone else like this, you know. It’s only because you’re ashamed of it.” 

 

Well that sounded like a challenge. Holding either side of purple helm fins, he pulled the jet forward into a true kiss, daringly licking against his lips as they parted. The wet heat of their mouth still stained with a taste of his own lubricant.  “Does that seem like something a mech who was ashamed would do?” 

 

Humming thoughtfully, Comtail loomed over the superior officer, “Further testing is required.” Both of them going down as their lips parted needily against each other, sinking into the berth with pleased moans. Yes, the jet was tired, but no sense leaving a good job unfinished. 


End file.
